


The Wild Hunt Duet

by darkpink



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, Sex, Slow Burn, composer au, no dogs but a greyhound reference, period drama, playing fast and loose with history, sexy times come at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:06:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkpink/pseuds/darkpink
Summary: Master William Graham is an out of work violin virtuso in 19th century Munich.  Hannibal Lecter is a wealthy patron with a lust for...composition.  I play fast and loose with history, music, and the German language (which I love, but have not mastered.) Heavily inspired by my very favorite trashy romance novels that could be improved upon with the addition of lovesick murder husbands.  Adult content, etc.  I proofread it myself, several times but I'm sure there's a typo or two I missed that I'll notice after posting.  I beg your gracious forgiveness.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 

Will ran his fingers through his hair. The stale air of his flat did nothing to calm his nerves. It had been days since he'd left his dingy, Munchen flat.  Days since he'd had a lesson, much less a performance.  People sought him out for his skill, of course.  He'd been hailed a prodigy, a genius.  Told he... 

"He just...has a way with it."  Men said...as they listened and watched their wives or lovers fall under his thrall.  And of course, those same lovers would flutter their fans and talk of his "Deep connection with the composer" and "He lives the composition." 

Every concert, Will saw what he could do to people through the music.  He saw their pupils dilate, watch tiny beads of sweat trickle through the white of their make-up and disappear into the crevice of their breasts.  He saw men shift in their seats, becoming aroused and uncomfortable by what he presented them. 

He was like a curious music box, able to take on the emotion of the composer and play it back.  It rarely touched him, or at least, touched him in such a way as he felt the music the way his audience did.  When the piece was...right for him...he was transported while he played.  He felt more like he was finally alive, more real in the world of the music.  And when he came out of that haze... 

His wine glass fell to the ground.  He hadn't even realized it had been so close to his wrist while he tried to write.  He reached down to pick it up, knowing it was unlikely to be refilled any time soon.  The wine helped him when he was no longer in the other place, it filled him when he felt empty and bereft. It had been months since the last recital and his savings had dwindled dangerously low.  But no one called him to play.  He still taught lessons to a few, those marcs were enough to get him some cheap table wine and pay the landlady enough to keep him in the flat. 

But not for much longer.  Then, who knows how he would support himself.  His hands were his life, his violin, a reason to live.  But without food, without a place to stay, what good would they be?   

A knock came at the door. 

"William.  Message for you.  Invitation it seems." 

The landlady was always excited to see an invitation.  It meant past due rent would be coming her way.  Will trudged to the door, boards creaking beneath his feet. 

He opened the door.  The landlady seemed to take him in.  He must be a sight.  Lack of sleep would have darkened the hollows of his eyes, and lack of food deepend his cheekbones.  Some thought it looked romantic.  Mostly, he thought it made him sickly...and poor. 

"Thank you." 

"Mr. Graham..." the landlady started. 

"Yes?" He raised his eyes from the invitation. 

"For your sake...I hope they pay well.  I'm not a charity you know." 

"Yes, that much is clear.  Thank you." 

She stared a second longer, then closed the door.  Will could hear her shuffling down the hall.  He padded over to the window, hoping the grey light would be sufficient to read where he'd been summoned.   

"Your presence is requested at the home of Herr Doktor Hannibal Lecter for an impromptu recital.  Please learn the enclosed selection.  You will be compensated handsomely for the short notice. 

Be prompt. 8 o'clock this evening" 

It was written in elegant script and sealed with deep, red, wax and a signet ring impression of a stag. 

"Herr Doktor Lecter" he thought, "It would seem I am to play for you."  He open the package that came with the invitation and slid the music into his hands.  Scanning the piece, he was struck by its form.  It was a difficult piece.  Not too difficult, but complicated and...passionate.  He'd know more once he played it, but to start, at least it was something different. 

There was much to learn from a composer's passion.  Riffling through the pages to find the name of the composer, Will found it unsigned, without attribution.  Interesting.  A test, perhaps? To see if he recognized it?  He'd had instructors who did that to him.  It was odd for a composer to not sign his work.  Acclaim was why one composed, as far as he knew.   

 Shaking his head, he took out his violin, cradling it in his hands and lovingly ran his fingers over it, feeling the possibility within.  He set it down, grabbed the bow and the meager supply of rosin and prepared it.  Hopefully, there'd be enough for what he was required to play tonight. 

******************************************************** 

Will knocked on the door to the tasteful townhouse near the Maximillianstrasse.  The house loomed above him, imposing and elegant.  It was clear the owner would easily be able to pay him for the evening's performance. 

What a performance it would be.  His afternoon had been devoted to the unnamed concerto.  It was a striking piece of music.  Its structure was expected, but underneath there was something else.  He could feel something in it, something just beyond his reach and the more he pursued the sound that would complete it, the more it seemed to just dance away.  It was frustrating, to be sure.  But he felt alive playing it.  Idly, he wondered if this was the only composition by the composer or if it was part of a much larger work. 

The door opened, the butler gestured Will to enter.  Will stepped in to a lifestyle much beyond his reach.  The floors were Italian marble and gilt walls led the eye to a vaulted ceiling painted with 4 women in Grecian style. 

"They are my muses." 

Will turned to the accented voice.  A gentleman descended the stair case.  Dressed in buff riding breeches and a closely fit jacket, this did not appear to be a member of the idle rich.   

"Herr Doktor?"  Will asked, hoping he did not presume incorrectly. 

"Yes, you have the right of it. Please, you are English, correct?  Call me Doctor Lecter.  I will not try you with the intricacies of German nobility and dialect" 

The Doctor was a tall, lean man that reminded Will somewhat of a greyhound.  At ease and at rest until he needed to break out into a run and bring down his prey.  A sleek animal, bred for the hunt.  Will's hand tightened around the handle of his violin case and he was surprised by a sudden urge to run. 

****************************************** 

Will cleared his throat "Thank you.  Despite being here for some time, I find my German still lacking."  Doctor Lecter chuckled, low and welcoming. 

"It is an uncommon language," he paused thoughtfully "though, It has a strength I can appreciate.  None of the fluidity of the French or the fire of the Italians.  Yet, there is much to appreciate in the language.  It is...refreshing.  Much like your English." 

Will felt an urge to defend his country of birth, however, as of it late, it had not done much for him.  He had no home to return to, all he had left was his language. 

"Please, let us enter the salon." Doctor Lecter gestured to a room on his left.   

"How many am I to play for?"  Will asked as he stepped into the salon, appraising the space for its sound and form.  Like everything else he had seen, it was decorated in perfect taste. An imposing chair was near the fireplace.  Against the interior wall, a harpsichord.  Nothing was out of place. 

"I am your audience."  Doctor Lector replied. 

Will looked up at him.  "No one else?" 

"Forgive me my eccentricities Master William, if I am to listen to a composition, I prefer to be uninterrupted by the demands of playing host.  This performance is just for me.  I am eager to hear your interpretation of that piece."  He sat down, carefully arranging his coat around him.  "So.  What did you think of it?" 

He gestured to a wooden music stand nearby.  Will set down the case and began to prepare his instrument.  Doctor Lecter seemed to watch every move he made.  

"I found it...uncommon."  Will started.  Unnerved, his hand slipped as he attempted to rosin his bow.  

"Uncommon?  Unusual?" 

"Well, yes, it follows a traditional structure, somewhat dance like, and fast.  Without a title I couldn’t be sure.  Likely the allergo of a larger piece."  A singular patron requesting a concert for one.  To have that kind of wealth was a staggering thought to Will.  Had he the funds, would he do the same?  Or simply fund his own playing and practice for himself in a room such as this.  Bending over, he picked up the rosin, made a few more swipes against the strings. 

"May I?" He asked, and Doctor Lecter nodded. 

The room was warm enough, and not too dry.  His instrument would be in fine voice tonight.  Fine enough to please the good doctor, he decided.  He straightened, shifted his instrument into position and began to tune.   

His chords seemed to align themselves without his assistance.  Everything seemed in order, and he doubted Doctor Lecter would have accepted anything else.  He seemed a man who could bend the very air to his will.  Will looked at the doctor, waiting for a signal to begin. 

The gentleman seemed to appraise him from head to toe and gestured with one elegant hand to start the piece. 

As Will set to play, images came to his head.  They always did.  In the past, the componsers he had performed for said it seemed he knew exactly what they were thinking as they had composed.  This was no different.  He was in the woods, just before dark.  Owl song seemed to come through in low, mournful chords setting the stage.  The more difficult section brought in a stag.  He could see it, being chased across the forest floor.   

The piece picked up speed, the fingerings more difficult, and more rewarding.  Weaving through trees, Will came to understand he was part of the chase.  He'd practiced it feeling that he'd been the hunter, but now, in this room, his playing took on a new urgency.  Moving on to the second page, he realized he was not the hunter, rather, he was the stag, being hunted by an unseen entity.   

He felt himself weaving to the music, ducking at the start of arpeggios, leaning into the final section where it slowed into ominous held notes.  He trembled, as though feeling the hunter behind the trees.  Eyes wide and terrified, the piece began to run again, he as the stag sprinting to the finish, faster and faster as though his very life depended the speed at which he played when, with an abrupt crack, one of the violin strings snapped, gunshot loud in the salon.  Will recoiled in pain as the string sliced his cheek. 

Doctor Lecter rushed to Will's side, deftly pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. 

"Not the finish I envisioned but its abruptness has a certain appeal."  He said, wryly.  Will could feel droplets of blood weeping down his cheek, felt one drop to his worn shirt as he grimaced, wondering about the impression he'd just made on the doctor. 

Will looked him in the eye as the handkerchief was pressed to his cheek.  Tremulously, he asked "You wrote this?" 

Lifting Will's hand to hold the fabric in place, Doctor Lecter paused, lingering over the calluses on Will's hand.  Then, after a moment, Doctor Lecter replied "I did.  The composition is mine.  Would you like to know its title?" 

Will nodded, breathless with shock. 

"Der Jager und Der Hirsch." 

Will breathed quickly.  "The Hunter...and The Stag." 

"Yes my friend.  And may I say, you played the Stag quite spectacularly."  He gestured to the harpsicord  "The hunter's part is yet unfinished.  But now that you are here, perhaps I have  found my inspiration." 

 


	2. Inspiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finds out exactly why Hannibal has been composing and for whom. A short chapter, but important. Something to nosh on while the players rehearse their piece.

Will looked up at Doctor Lector. "Your inspiration?"

The doctor let go of Will's hand, leaving the handkerchief pressing against Will's face. "Have you ever been a residential artist?"

A thrill of hope ran through Will. An artist in residence. To leave the flat behind, to have a place warm and comfortable, with meals to be depended on and nothing but music as his focus. Trying, and failing, the keep the notes of hope from his voice, he responded, "I have heard of it, though I have never had the pleasure."

Doctor Lecter walked past his chair, long fingers tracing the pattern in the upholstered seat.

"I have a need for inspiration. One always seems to find that need when great art must be created." He appraised Will, eyes lingering on the fraying cuffs of his coat, the stubble on his chin.  Will felt his cheeks growing warm under the slight throb of the cut on his face. "Are you familiar with Ludwig's obsession with the arts?" Hannibal inquired.

The king. Will dropped his hand in surprise. "Yes, yes, that was part of the reason I traveled here. I had heard of opportunities having the king as a patron and had hoped..."

"I'm to compose for him." Hannibal said, fixing his gaze on Will.

A composition for the king. Will's mind was frantic at the thought. These were heights he had stopped hoping to aspire to.

"Schubert wrote a piece...Der Erlkönig."

Will knew the piece, it had been much talked of in musical circles, high and low, "The melody yes, and the concept but it’s a vocal piece, is it not?"

Doctor Lecter walked to his harpsichord "Yes, a vocal piece. But the king is looking for something...darker. More passionate. This piece, The Hunter and the Stag was an experiment. I am looking to write something much larger. A concerto. But I have lacked inspiration until now. Tell me, Master Graham, do you know of The Wild Hunt?"

Will paused thoughtfully, "I'd heard of a legend, more picte than English, a fairy king, riding through the night, picking up souls that have lost their way...making them join him in the hunt."

The doctor gently played a few notes on the harpsichord, calling back to the forest theme in the piece Will had just played. "That is what I will write. Tell me, William, are you able to help me with a lost soul?" He looked up, staring at Will. "Do you think you could find a place in The Wild Hunt?"

Will felt as though on a precipice, looking down into a deep and vast darkness. He could see nothing ahead, except possibility. Where else was he to go? His funds were at an end, and helping with a composition for the king! It was everything he had wanted.

"I care deeply for art and music, Herr Doktor, and for that I would love to join in this opportunity. But I must eat. Tell me, what would you be expecting of me? Crass though it is when talking of art, what is to be my compensation?" Will swallowed, feeling small and uncomfortable under the doctor's gaze.

The tall man softened slightly "Oh that, of course. When it is not a worry you possess you do not even think to mention it. You will stay with me, be my...inspiration in residence. I will compose a concerto for violin and harpsichord. Your food and board will be provided by me and your monetary compensation will be, Well..."

He named a sum so grand, Will could barely fathom it without salivating. But now was the time to be a professional.

"I have very little in my flat. I can be in residence within the day."

The doctor's eyes bored into his, "Anything that is deeply personal and cannot be replaced?"

Will started, "No, I have my violin, most of the music is in my satchel, I have a few sets of clothes....and the landlady must be paid for my...delayed rent."

"It is done. Do not worry for your clothes, your wardrobe shall need to reflect one who is to play for the King. We begin tomorrow. My butler will show you to your room where you may rest..." the doctor's mouth tilted up into a thin smile, "And tend to your wounds."

With a brief bow, the gentleman left the room, leaving a bewildered Will wondering what, exactly, he had just agreed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Der Erlkönig is, in fact, a piece by Schubert based on a poem by Goethe. (Bryn Terfel has an excellent recording of it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lehVBocGEDA) Its translated to The Elf King, and tells the tale of a Father, riding through a forest at night, as the son hears the call of the Elf King, entreating him to join him in his kingdom. Throughout the poem, the son is telling his father that the Elf King is trying to take him away, and, as our Jack Crawford tried to dissuade William that Hannibal was, indeed, a killer, the father tells the son that it is "es ist ein Nebelstreif" (Only the fog) or "In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind" (The wind, sighing through the trees.)
> 
> But as we all know, he is the devil. He is smoke.
> 
> The Elf King will always win.


	3. Evening Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After agreeing to Hannibal's offer of "inspiration in residence" Will joins the Lecter household and shares a meal with the good doctor.

The butler appeared silently, in the doorway. "This way, Master Graham."

Will turned to his voice and saw the butler was gesturing up the grand staircase in the entryway. Carefully, he placed his violin back in the case, closed it with a click and followed the butler upstairs.

Portraits dating back to Renaissance lined the walls, grave eyes watching Will. He felt like a scrubby child in this outdated suit, now stained with blood. He mentally added violin strings to the list of supplies he would require before they rehearsed much more. There were many doors to many rooms as he walked through the upstairs hall, bringing to his mind all manner of fairy tales with hidden chambers and secrets abounding. The atmosphere was conducive to flights of fancy, though there was a heaviness in the air. It reminded him of being in a field just before a storm and hearing the faintest rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Sir, your room." Will started, his thoughts interrupted, as he looked up to see his room. He had expected something slightly better than a servants quarter, perhaps an older sitting room, converted into a bedroom.  Instead, he walked through a heavily carved door and into a suite fit for nobility. A large schrank was on the wall, room for more clothes than Will could ever hope to own. An imposing bed lay to his right, a shaving basin on a vanity nearby.

Will turned back to the butler. "Are you quite sure?" This room was for guests, not assistant artist in residence or...whatever Will was to be.

The butler sniffed. "I do not make mistakes, Master Graham. Would you like something sent up for you from the kitchen?"

Will's stomach rumbled in response.

"Very good sir. A light supper, some brot, some käse'"

"Serve it in the study." The doctor walked into Will's view. "And a bottle of the 1810, if you please."

"Of course, sir." The butler disappeared, leaving Hannibal and Will alone.

"Mister Graham, you seem discomfited by your surroundings."

A rueful laugh escaped Will's lips, "Last night I was in a flat with my last glass of wine. Tonight, I live like a king."

"Well, more like a count, if we follow the my family's lines of nobility." Doktor Lecter said mildly. 

"Either way, Herr Doktor, I am hard pressed to find a way to thank you for this...for all of this." He gestured to the room.

"Please join me, then, with my wine, and some food, as a thanks." Hannibal stepped to the side, "It is always a pleasure to have company for dinner."

"Thank you," Will said "I only hope my company will be as pleasant as the home that now surrounds me."

They walked down the hallway in silence, footfalls echoing in the empty house.  Will wondered, briefly, if all the servants were only allowed stocking feet or slippers, to serve their master so quietly.  As if sensing his thoughts, Hannibal explained,

"My servants do not stay here. Even the Butler will leave after this light repast." Uncommon for a nobleman, Will's eyes met his "I prefer my privacy in the evenings. To compose without an audience."

"Composition is an intimate process, Herr Doktor." Will said, taking in the oiled leather and old book smell of the study. Hannibal gestured for Will to take a seat.

Hannibal sat down on a leather chair opposite of him. "It is. However, in working with you, I may have to share some of my intimacies. Will you be comfortable with that?"

Will shook his head "I will be happy to assist however I can, but I must warn you, I lack the gift for composition."

"Of this, I had heard. That your gift lies less in creating something new, and more in feeling, truly, what was meant by the composer. I think, what I will be most concerned with, is if my work rings true...if what I feel writing can be felt by those in the room."

The Butler was there, silent and quick, leaving behind a tray of cheese, bread, and thinly sliced meat artfully arranged with a small bunch of grapes. He uncorked a bottle of red wine, leaving it next to a pair of fine crystal glasses.

"Please eat, Mister Graham. The hollows in your cheeks tell me it has been quite some time."

Will prepared a small plate for himself, carefully arranging the meat and cheese on a piece of bread. "This looks wonderful, even for a light supper." He took a bite, trying not to devour it whole. The meat was perfect, tender and hearty. Swallowing, he asked "Pork?"

Hannibal smiled, "Wine?"

"Please." Will accepted the glass "So, Herr Doktor, when will we begin in earnest? I will require new strings as my violin saw fit to cause me violence today."

The doctor's eyes flicked to Will's cheek. "Soon. I would prefer to give you a little time to heal before we rehearse and draw more blood." His mouth quirked up slightly, the barest hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. "Tomorrow, we will shop the Strasse to get you fitted for clothing appropriate for where we may perform."

"Ahh, yes. Thank you. I imagine a new suit and breeches should do, I hate to take advantage of your generosity."

"It is not taking advantage if it pleases me to do it." Will flushed slightly, ashamed of his poverty in the richness of his setting.

"I knew of you, you know." Hannibal set his wine glass down, folding his hands on his lap "I have seen you perform."

"Have you? Its been some time." Will thought back to his performances, trying to recall the doctor's face in the crowd. His thoughts turned to the typical reaction of his audience. Briefly, he saw the doctor in his mind, sitting in a front row seat, shifting slightly to conceal how stimulated Will's performance made him.  Will had rarely worked with a composer during the creation of their piece and never in such close proximity.  He swallowed hard, thinking of the effect he may have on the doctor, then tried to focus on the doctor's words.

"Yes. You were....arresting." Will raised his eyes and met Hannibal's gaze. The doctor continued,  "I look forward to using that talent for the king." And suddenly, Will felt bereft, as though a moment had been shared, then turned aside.

"Yes, for the king. Of course." Will stifled a yawn. Now, full of wine and supper, it was hard for him to resist sleep.

"Go on, and rest Mister Graham. You will need your strength for tomorrow." Hannibal stood, gesturing for Will to rise.

"My strength? We are only going to a tailor and a music shop."

He smiled again, encouragingly. "One can never know where the tailor may lead. We will make you a new man, Mister Graham. Fit for a king."

Will flushed again, feeling as though he were being wrapped as gift. "Yes. Alright then. I shall be fit for a king. Goodnight Herr Doktor." and with a final nod, he left the study, exhausted. He heard the faint click of the door closing behind him and papers being shuffled.

It would seem, inspiration had already struck the doctor.  The next movement may come sooner than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more meaty course, to tide you over until posting after the holiday weekend...may it sate your hunger for now.


	4. Clothes Make the Graham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, Will is outfitted in a manner fit for a king. Every good romance needs a wealthy benefactor and new clothes scene.

Will had slept fitfully and had been feeling much improved.  Until now. 

"Undergarments as well, Herr Doktor?" He'd been stripped down to his shirt and breaches, assuming that would be sufficient for a fitting. 

Doctor Lecter ignored him, speaking only to the tailor "Dress him.  From skin outward." 

"Herr Doktor, I assure you, meager though my funds may be, I can manage my own undergarments."  The tailor took that moment to raise Will's arms out to the side and put the tape around his chest. 

"This is not about your pride, this is about having the correct tools for the job you are to perform.  Can you play a concerto without your violin?" 

"Hannibal..." Exasperation led Will to be more familiar and he stopped at the doctor's barely raised eyebrow "I beg your pardon.  I did not mean to be so informal." 

"It is forgotten.  And you must have your armor, inside and out.  He will not strip you before me, certainly not here." 

Now, embarrassed and underclothed, Will found he did not have much to say in response to that. 

The tailor's assistant entered, carrying a pile of clothes. 

"Ahhh, thank you, my boy." He accepted the pile and handed it to Will. "Ready made for another client.  With some small adjustments, you can wear them out." 

"Throw his old clothes away, please.  They are not fit for rags." Hannibal motioned at the boy to pick them up.  "Do not forget what he's wearing now.  Take those as well" The boy looked, hesitantly from the doctor to Will.  The doctor grinned slightly, "After he has changed.  You need not take them here and now." 

Will accepted the pile of clothes and stepped off the fitting dias and went into the back fitting room.  He could hear hushed voices, the tailor and Hannibal.  Sliding out of his worn linen, he took a moment to look in the mirror. 

His skin was pale, though last night's meal had given him more color than the pallor he'd had the day before.  His cheeks were flushed and pink...embarrassment over the doctor's high handed treatment. He was a musician, not just a...doll, to be dressed and undressed for viewings.   

However, his pique was stilled when he touched the fine lawn of the shirt they'd had for him.  It was so smooth as to almost be silk and felt like heaven sliding it over his head.  It fit closely enough to his shape without clinging.  He'd noticed the Doctor had worn his coats in a snug manner, as to show off his physique, likely honed by hunting and riding, he thought. 

The breeches, too, were a perfect fit, though a touch long.  He sighed and put on the coat, grabbed the cravat, fiddling with it around his neck as he walked back into the room. 

Looking down at the dias as he stepped up, he said "Sir, the breeches are a bit long, I apologize for my lack of stature...." He glanced up, to see the Doctor staring at him, appraisingly. 

"An improvement, to be sure." The nobleman stepped forward, "You do not mind if I take a closer inspection as to what my money will buy?" 

Surprised at his intrusiveness, Will dropped his hands to his sides as Hannibal slowly walked around him. 

"Were you to take me to market, Herr Doktor, would I fetch a good price?" Will smiled slightly, hoping to lighten the sudden heaviness in the room. 

"You would be a most inconvenient cow, Master Will.  I would not want you for my supper when I knew how sweetly you'd play."  He looked back up at Will and his eyes drifted down to the cravat. "You do not mind I use your name in a more familiar fashion as well?" 

"No, no, Master Will is fine...William even." Will stuttered. 

"Perhaps I will allow you to use my own name as we progress." Will set his shoulders back, unsure of how to proceed.  "However, for now, you may continue with Herr Doktor or Doctor Lecter, whatever you are comfortable with.  Now, as our tailor has stepped out briefly, I suppose I shall have to play valet." His hands grasped the sides of the cravat. 

"Herr Doktor, that is unnecessary, I can certainly..." 

"William," a pause "I imagine you have not had much opportunity to be waited upon.  Let me help you experience this.  It will certainly not damage or offend me to offer so small an assistance." 

Will swallowed.  "Of course.  Pardon me." 

Hannibal stood close, lightly tightening the cravat.  A flash in his minds eye, Will saw those same long fingers reach up his neck, those same, elegant hands wrap around his throat and... 

"Master William."  Hannibal's voice broke through Will's reverie "Are you quite alright?" 

He was breathing heavily, heart in his throat. "I...yes.  I'm sorry.  Thank you for your help." 

He stepped backward, clumsily off the dias.  "Let me get my old clothes.  I'll give them to the boy." 

"Of course." Doctor Lecter said "We'll have the breeches hemmed, then to the music shop." 

"Yes.  Right.  Strings.  The last ones were too tight, I'll need to be more careful..." Will backed away and out of the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who loves a good romance novel, you cannot overlook the scene where our protagonist is outfitted in something new to catch the eye of their romantic interest. I couldn't resist. Our next chapter will return us to rehearsals and where the good doctor's inspiration has led...


	5. Rehearsals Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rehearsals begin in earnest, but Will finds some difficulty in understanding the composer's truth in the piece.

After his breeches had been hemmed, they stopped at the music shop, the doctor purchasing a fine set of strings for Will to use.  He was itching to put them to work in his violin.  Doctor Lecter was not what he had expected.   

He was nobility, that was sure, but eccentric.  Particular in his tastes.  He seemed to only want the very best, the most beautiful.  In that, Will decided to be flattered.  He would not have been asked, were he not the best.  After his initial debut at the tender age of 16, he'd been a prodigy.  Now, nearing 30, the novelty had worn off.  But he was still the best at interpreting any piece of music.  That talent stayed true.  After resting briefly, it was time to begin rehearsing the piece.

Doctor Lecter had, indeed, been inspired the night before.  He brought the first movement of the concerto and they set to work.  Hour after hour that afternoon, they rehearsed the first section over and over, and now, into the dark of the evening.  It wasn't just the fingering that was elusive, though that, itself, was more difficult as fatigue started to take Will.  No, it was the intangible. 

"Its still not right" came out of Will's mouth in an angry outburst "This section...this...motif...it sounds..." 

"Like screaming.  Like cries in the night." Hannibal supplied, looking up from the composition. He seemed somewhat pleased with their progress but Will could not feel that pleasure himself.

Will started pacing near the harpsicord. "Its not beautiful...but that, in itself, is not the problem...I don't understand it...I can see it, Hannibal, Herr Doktor, I see..." 

Hannibal stared at him, unblinking.   

Dare Will speak of what he saw? The images were still not quite clear, but the impressions he received in the piece were enough to give him pause.  He saw blood, he saw death, but he also saw...triumph. 

"Victory." He whispered. "I see...victory." 

"Victory over what?" 

Frustration simmered in Will, filling his stomach and infecting every vein in his body. 

"Herr Doktor, I cannot even SPEAK it.  Its...its not der Erlkönig...its something else entirely.  You've written this...you're still writing it, it is a wild hunt...but its not THE wild hunt.  This is too personal, its too...something other.  But what infects me, what is driving nails into my brain is that it rings FALSE."

"False." Hannibal said, "What is false?"

Will continued, heedless of any offense he may give, "There is JOY in this hunt.  But it is not...its not just asking someone to join the hunt, exactly, or even forcing them, against their will...there is a joy...a relentless, merciless joy, in the finding of the prey...but..."

"But what, Will?  You need not censor yourself, in the process, there are no mistakes, only lessons."

"There is also...a longing.  The hunt is hungry for a specific...joining.  It is not a wanton lust for the hunt, there is something...someone...I...I cannot yet feel it out but there is something missing, something...something that has not yet been caught.  But the hunter...they...they..."

Hannibal pressed his lips together, then began to roll up the parchment for the composition "We've done too much tonight.  I can see that" 

"No." Will said "We haven't.  There's still more.  But I cannot learn this piece, I cannot perform it as you intend, until the triumph is real...until there is true victory.  Until that point, to inhabit this music is to live a lie." 

The air was still between them, nothing but the distant vibration of the violin strings. 

"Perhaps, it is not triumph, nor victory." Hannibal walked to Will, gently reaching down to remove the bow from his hands. "Perhaps it is anticipation of a triumph.  Perhaps...it is the moment, the breath before victory is sure." 

Tilting his head up to take in Hannibal's gaze, Will took a long breath in.   

"Perhaps it is hubris, Herr Doktor." 

Hannibal's eyes went nearly black, the candlelight flickering gold, bathing everything that by day, had seemed so opulent, into stark shadow. "It is time for bed.  You must take care of yourself, Will.  You are no good to me like this." He set Will's bow down next to its case, then reached for the violin.  

Will took a step back, clutching it tightly in his hand "Come now, Will" Hannibal slid his hand down the neck of the violin to Will's hand "We must learn when it is time to put our tools away for the night.  There is a time and place to test physical and psychological limits." Will's grip loosened "It is not yet that time." 

Will let go, the weight of exhaustion coming over him but still feeling a hum of tension in his body. 

Hannibal took in Will's appearance, the ready made suit, so much better than his previous garb, but still not right, not perfectly fitted for him.  He took in his face, thin from exhaustion, cheekbones hollowed by too many days without enough food. 

"The shadows under your eyes, William, they are not only the only shadows you possess." 

Will narrowed his eyes "You've hired me, for this, Hannibal, I will do my job." 

Hannibal set down the violin in the case, carefully covering it with the worn cloth inside. 

"Your instrument is beautiful, William." 

Will inclined his head, slightly at the abrupt change in topic. "Thank you.  It is my treasure." 

Hannibal closed the lid "You must take care of what you treasure.." 

"Herr Doktor, please, I'm not..." 

"A child.  Or an instrument.  But, for now, you are mine.  And for that reason, we will conclude for this evening.  Let us rest.  Our demons will still be here in the morning and will wait for us to return."  Hannibal stepped back and gestured for Will to leave the room. 

Gathering his thoughts, Will straightened his jacket and walked toward the door.  He would have worked into the night, for this opportunity, he'd have done everything.  He did not want to appear ungrateful, so he turned back, making careful eye contact. 

"Thank you, Herr Doktor, for putting my violin away." 

Hannibal dipped his head slightly. "You're welcome, Will."  Will stepped forward. 

"And William?" Will stopped, turning back to Hannibal to see the  gentleman reach out to snuff a candle with his fingertips. 

"It is not hubris when victory is assured."  Hannibal extinguished the light and smoke curled up and around his hand. 

"Goodnight." 

Will left the room, looking forward to a night of rest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your kind notes, comments, and kudos. I took a chance posting this in hoping others had the same weird love of Hannibal, romance, and music and your support has meant the world to me. Now, there will be more rehearsals to enjoy and a performance not to be missed. Never fear, there's more to come.


	6. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal's rehearsals continue. Will finds a new truth in their concerto. Hannibal makes dinner plans.

Their days continued in the same fashion.  Wake, dress, a light breakfast, rehearse all day, supper, rehearse into the night.  Will had, so far, refrained from another outburst, however; there had been no new music.  Without context to the rest of the piece, he still could not find its truth. He was frustrated, but despite that, they were making some progress.

Some parts had become clearer.  It was a chase.  The doctor.  Hannibal.  Had told him the section he'd composed was The Fairy King having spied his quarry, chasing the lost soul through the darkened woods. Will understood that, he felt the chase, but some part of it just didn't feel right beneath his finger tips. 

"Shall we begin the anew?" Hannibal said, cutting through Will's thoughts. 

Will set down the violin and began to pace. 

"This section, Herr Doktor.  This is from the perspective of the Fairy King, correct?" The warmth of the fire drew Will close.  Being chilled to the bone was not so distant a memory that he could walk away from the heat of the flame. 

"Yes.  It is the chase.  Does it still ring false?" 

"I understand it better...but..." 

"But you do not feel it." Will shook his head. 

Hannibal stood and moved away from the bench, "Perhaps to see it, we need to take away anything that is hampering your vision." He began walking toward Will.

"What do you mean?" Will was confused.  Nothing was really hampering his vision, his eyesight did not suffer, the room was well lit.  

"Come now, William, we've been rehearsing for weeks, surely you know this section by heart."

"Well, yes, I suppose I do have it memorized..." Will responded, confused.  Hannibal stood before him, untying his cravat, then smoothing it in his hands.

"Then perhaps, we should try this differently." He stepped even closer. "Do you trust me, William?"

Will swallowed. "I...I must, mustn't I? To be here?"

The tall gentleman smiled. "Excellent.  Now, I will block out all distractions for the eyes, and let us take this section again"

Will stood, still and quiet as the doctor stepped behind him, pulling the fabric over his eyes, blindfolding him.  He could feel the warmth of Hannibal's body, so close to his, feel him lean closer and whisper "Are you comfortable, Master Graham?"

"I.  That is.  Yes.  I.  I can still play for you." Will stuttered, as blood rushed to his cheeks.

"Good.  Now, let us try this again."  Will heard him walk back to his instrument.  The music began anew.  

Will could see the hunt in the darkness, feel the pursuer.  As he played he knew he was on the hunt.  He could see a figure, running before him, as his melody darted with him, weaving between trees, faster than the wind, faster than anything.  His heart beat a rough staccato in his chest and he felt...alive.  He felt so alive.  This.  This was what Hannibal felt in his hunt.  But...this was not his part to play.  This, this was not at all what Hannibal meant for the piece to be, whether he realized it yet, or not.  The harpsichord part of the prey should have been galloping away from Will's relentless melody.  Instead, his melody seemed to draw the song of the prey closer to him.  The prey, it would seem, was no longer running scared, rather, it was being woven into the hunt's melody.  How had Will not noticed it before?  The section concluded and, breathing hard, Will lowered his instrument.  He heard Hannibal walk back to him.  Felt him step ever closer.  Then, long fingers slid up the sides of his face, pulling the blindfold up and over his head.  Will looked up into Hannibal's eyes and asked "Why am I playing the part of the hunter?" 

Hannibal shrugged, taking a step back. "You are a virtuoso, are you not?  It is a virtuoso's part." He walked back to a mirror hanging nearby and began tying the cravat back into place.

"Not if I cannot feel it." He looked down at the harpsichord  "Not if..." His glance went back to the doctor "Not if it shouldn't be written for me." 

Hannibal stood somehow straighter, a slight movement indicating a deeper surprise. 

"This is not how this is structured you know, I am the accompaniment.  Ideally, you should play your solo.  Then, this would be re-written for orchestra." 

"No, that's not this piece.  Hannibal.  This is not for full orchestra...this is not a simple concerto." 

Hannibal's eyes took on a predatory gleam "Then, dear William, what is it." 

Will swallowed. "Doctor.  It is a duet." 

The doctor pivoted slightly, taking a circular path around the chair and coming to Will's side.  "Duet." 

Will spoke again, feeling more sure "Not just a duet...a...seduction.  I think..."  Will turned to Hannibal's face a breath away from his own, "I think we are approaching the fairy king incorrectly." 

"And how would you approach the fairy king?" Hannibal stepped directly in front of Will, looking into his eyes, looming over him.  "How would you come to him?" 

"You don't approach him, Herr Doktor." Will said.  He could no longer distinguish the heat from the fire from anything else. Everything around him seemed an inferno "The king summons you." 

Hannibal reached for Will with his long, elegant fingers, gently cupping the side of Will's face. 

"As I have summoned you." 

Will's mouth went dry. "As you have summoned me." 

They stood like that for what seemed hours.  Will, like a hare under the doctor's gaze.  Unable to look away, unable to step forward.  Hannibal lowered his hand. 

"Tomorrow, there will be a dinner." 

Will blinked, "A dinner." 

"Yes.  You are to dine with me and my guest, a Signore Fell.  Another composer." Hannibal straightened his coat. 

"I've heard of him...he is somewhat..." Will remembered a brief introduction to the man at one of his earlier recitals.  He was the one who had referred to Will has a "Beautiful music box...lovely music, but empty inside."   

"He is rude." Hannibal said. 

"Yes.  I did not care for my meeting with him." 

"Nor I." 

Will raised an eyebrow "May I ask why we're having him for dinner?" 

Hannibal smiled "It is important to keep one's friends, close." 

Will smiled back.  His smile felt...different, than it had before.  He realized he was somehow baring his teeth in a smile that mimicked Hannibal's. "And to keep one's enemies even closer."   

"Then, he shall be close to us." Hannibal turned and stalked over to the window "The tailor will have completed your evening attire tomorrow.  It will be delivered.  Dinner will be served early, 6, I think.  We will not rehearse tomorrow to prepare." 

"Do you supervise the chef?" 

Hannibal continued "I am the chef.  It is my keenest pleasure, next to composition, to create a meal." 

Will put his violin away, "You are a man of many talents, Herr Doktor." He closed the violin case, then looked back up with a questioning gaze, unsure of what was to come next.

"That, you will see tomorrow."  Hannibal smiled again.  The look was intended to be mild, genial, but it reminded Will of a cat about to pounce.  "Goodnight, William." 

"Goodnight.  Hannibal." Will nodded, and left the room, heart fluttering in his chest, excited, terrified, and...curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it ever going to be anything but a duet?


	7. Interlude: The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will struggles with nightmares. An interlude before dinner.

Will was being chased. 

Fast as he could, he darted between the trees in the ancient forest.  His breathing came in heavy, rough gasps as he sought shelter in the dim moonlight.  Feeling his pursuer, he hastened his steps until, suddenly, he was pulled behind a large tree. 

"Shhhh." Will's eyes searched the darkness for his rescuer. 

"Still, he is coming for you." The form said. 

"I know...I know...he comes...he is relentless."  Frantically, Will looked for somewhere, anywhere else to go. 

"You cannot avoid it, you know." The voice continued, "He comes.  His arrival is glorious.  He takes what is his and swallows it up, he is the dark victory." 

"He is the Hunt." Will breathed, seeing his breath puff in front of him as the air around him chilled.

"I am the Hunt." The form stepped into light, features sharpening in that of the doctor's, but not as he appeared in the flesh.  Rather, he was draped in heavy furs, a rough, hammered crown gleamed upon his head.  He was the Elf King.  The dark king of the Wild Hunt.

Will could not move.  Could not scream. His thoughts, scattered and terrified, coalesced into a writhing madness. 

"I am the Hunt, William.  And you are my quarry." 

Hannibal raised his hand, black with dripping blood, holding a silver chain that seemed to catch and hold the glimmering moonlight.  Will's eyes followed the chain to see it building, ever faster, toward his own neck. 

Jumping backward, tripping over a tree root, Will's voice rang out "NO!" 

"William!  William!" Strong hands shook Will's shoulders "Wake up!"   

Gasping, tears streaming down his face, Will awoke, eyes wild. 

"William.  It was a dream." Hannibal spoke in a soothing tone.  "just a dream." 

Will tried to slow his racing heart.  "I...it was..." 

"It was only a dream, William.  Nothing but a..." 

"It was the hunt." 

Hannibal started.  "Excuse me?" 

Will swallowed, "The hunt.  I was...it was..."  He looked down and saw the doctor's hands had slid down his shoulder, and were resting on Will's thigh.  The weight should have been a warm comfort, a way to ground him and bring him back to the waking world. But all Will could see were those bloody hands and that bright, silver chain.  He shivered, then looked back to Hannibal.

"Perhaps I am heading in the right direction for my composition after all." Hannibal said, sliding further down Will's bed, removing his hands from Will's person.  Will noted the doctor was still dressed in his clothes from rehearsal.  Hannibal seemed to notice Will's questioning gaze. "I got caught up in the hunt, myself, it seems.  I was composing in the study when I heard your shouts." 

Embarrassed, Will shifted into a more upright position, "I apologize for taking you away from your process." 

"On the contrary, William.  I found this most inspiring."  Hannibal rose "Do try to get some sleep, dear boy.  I doubt the hunt will come back for you a second time this night."  Bowing slightly, he walked to the fireplace, stoked the glowing embers back to a fire, then left the room.

Will shook his head, but could not shake the feeling that, though it had been it dream...it was not just a dream.  "Time will tell, I suppose." and Will laid back down, pulling the covers tight around himself.  Sleep.  Dreamless sleep, soon followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just keep telling yourself, its only a dream. At least, that's what Will told himself...


	8. To Market, To Market...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal requires ingredients for their upcoming dinner party with Senore Fell. Naturally, he must choose only the finest ingredients himself. However, fine ingredients means a shopping expedition Will won't soon forget.

The next morning, Will met Doctor Lecter at the breakfast table.  He was seated at the head, going through a journal and making notes in elegant script.  Will had trouble shaking off the nightmare of the evening before.  In the doctor's regal baring, he could almost see the Elf King beneath the genteel exterior.  Hannibal looked up.

"I trust the rest of your sleep was uneventful, Master Graham." He scratched another note into his journal. "How do you fare this fine morning?"

Will swallowed, trying to bring himself back to the present. "It was.  I thank you for asking." Will tried to get a look at what Hannibal was writing. "Composing at the breakfast table?"

The doctor smiled, "Somewhat, but not with music."  Will tilted his head slightly in confusion. "I am preparing our menu for this evening.  However, I think it may necessitate a trip to the spice market.  I would like to do something special tonight for our guest and am afraid what I have on hand will be insufficient." 

"I'm afraid I don't know where the spice market is, Herr Doktor.  Do you make a list for your chef..." Will shook his head, remembering their earlier conversation, "No, I suppose you wouldn't, not if you are the chef."

"You are quite correct.  I prefer to oversee the ingredient purchase myself, especially when what I require is so precious."

"Precious?"

"I intend to make a dish of seafood for our traveling Italian friend, and am in need of some saffron, which is quite dear."  

"If it is so dear, are you sure you want to waste it on an enemy?" Will said, as he picked up a roll from the breakfast table, eyes searching for the butter.

"An excellent meal is never wasted, not even on one's enemy." Hannibal handed him a butter knife, nodding toward a small dish. "Additionally, my dear boy, you will also be partaking of this feast and I would not want to disappoint you."

William laughed, "How could you possibly disappoint me with a feast such as that? Saffron, indeed!  Never have I had something so fine!"  He took a bit of the perfectly buttered roll, once again thankful for the regular and hearty food at Hannibal's table.

Hannibal closed his journal, wrapping a leather strip around it. "It will be a meal not soon forgotten.  However, I will need to journey out into the world.  I have my own spice contact, who can procure the unusual for me, but it is, perhaps, not the wisest of places to go unaccompanied.  I did see that unfortunate boarding house you lived in before" Hannibal made brief eye contact with him, "Before you joined me in residency.  Perhaps you would humor me and join me.  A footpad is unlikely to bother both of us." Hannibal stood,  "Perhaps you did not intend to butter yourself," he reached up, gently wiping next to Will's lips "But you seem to have accomplished that as well."  Will swallowed, then reached for a napkin. He was not quite willing to wipe away that moment, but in the fine house of Lecter, he imagined rudeness would not be tolerated.  

"I should be happy to accompany you." Will said.  He tried to remember the last time he had been outside.  Weeks, perhaps?  They had been so hard at work, trying to find the rhythm of the hunt.  Perhaps fresh air would do them some good.

***********

Will and Hannibal traveled away from the stately homes and past the fashionable shopping district into a small market, tucked away from the bustle of the city.  Somehow, everything seemed a little darker there, a little...something else.  As they walked, the doctor said very little, but Will noticed his posture change gradually.  He walked less elegantly and was somewhat, more, predatory.  He seemed to be stalking something.  Were Will to encounter him on the street, he would have given the doctor a wide berth.  Hannibal looked suddenly at Will.

"You seem to be studying me."  Will felt blood rise in his cheeks, "I am not composing now, yet, I feel as though you are trying to deduce my intentions."

"It is not that...exactly" Will stammered, "It seems...it seems you are projecting, something, here.  I can only assume it is because of where we are going." Will swallowed "You seem ready to strike, should the need arise."

"One never knows who may be lurking in the shadows." He slowed his pace "However, I am at the home of my spice merchant."  Will looked up to see a small sign, proclaiming exotic spices and delights could be found within. "I'll be but a moment.  Do wait here...the merchant can be...a bit skittish." and he opened the door, then slowly closed it behind him. Will looked around, unfamiliar with his surroundings.  It was a part of the city he had never been to, it seemed all together hidden from anyone who did not know where to look.  Small alleyways here would be dark, even in the day time.  After nightfall, it would absolutely not be a place he would want to be found.  Suddenly, he felt a hand on his back.

He turned around with a start, only to be looking back in Hannibal's eyes. "Let us return, I have what I came for." He patted his chest. "Only the best for Senore Fell."  

Will nodded "He is your guest, Herr Doktor.  Only you can best decide what he deserves."  

Hannibal smiled "That is most true, William..." He trailed off, looking suddenly over Will's shoulder, then pushed him roughly to the side.  Will hit the wall, hard, knocking the air out of his lungs.  "Hannibal, what on..." and saw Hannibal grappling with a footpad.  He could see a knife in the attackers hand.  He was a big man, brutish, but with a surprising strength and speed, Hannibal dodged past his knife hand and came up behind him, jumping upon the man's back, wrapping his hands around his throat.  Will saw the man attempting to raise his knife hand again.  He glanced down and saw several bricks that had come away from the stoop beside him.  Without thought he grabbed a brick and threw it at the man's hand, knocking the knife away.  With a howl of pain he reared back, Hannibal leaping to the side.  As the attacker was occupied, Will saw Hannibal step in front of the brute, reach to the ground and grab the knife, and in one swift and terrible motion, he stabbed the man in the stomach.  There was a terrible gasping sound and Will saw the man slide to the ground, clutching his stomach.

Hannibal was breathing hard, Will could see his broad shoulders rising and falling in the grey morning light.  Then, slowly, the doctor turned to face Will.  

In one moment, Will saw something of what Hannibal had been trying to hide.  This was a face of a hunter.  Of _the_  hunter.  Blood dripped down the front of Hannibal's waistcoat.  His hands were at his side, clenched in fists.  He still breathed heavily, his eyes gone black in rage.  He was...breathtaking.  Will scrambled to his feet.  Then, as if slipping back into...a change of clothes...Hannibal straightened, his shoulders going back into the proper posture of a nobleman.  

"Would you be so kind as to valet for me, William?  I would hate to attract attention with this waistcoat.  I shall turn it around so, unlike our friend here, the bloodstains will be on the inside, rather than out."  Will nodded, dumbly, stepping to Hannibal's back and helping him out of his coat.  Deftly, Hannibal removed the waist coat, and turned it to its duller lining.  Fortunately, the lining was darker, so any blood seeping through would not be visible.  Silently, Will helped Hannibal back into his coat.

"Are you...quite alright, Hannibal...Herr Doktor?" Will looked at him, unsure of exactly how to proceed.  How does one proceed when one witnesses a companion so utterly destroy someone on the street?

"Yes, I am.  He was not the first to attempt harm to me on these streets, nor, I imagine, shall he be the last.  It is an unfortunate side effect of traveling in some parts of town."  Without another glance, Hannibal began began walking back the way they came. Will stepped over the dying man, still trying to reconcile what had just occurred  "Are you quite alright, Master Graham?"

Will thought for a moment.  Was he alright?  "I am...shaken by the violence I witnessed, Herr Doktor.  Should...should we not call the watch?  Or a guard? Or..."

"Here, they would not come."

Will was quiet.  Their steps echoed on the empty streets.  Will somehow had the feeling there would be no additional delays on this trip.  No one would dare interrupt them now.  There had been such violence in the doctor's actions.  But, what other action could he have taken.  Then, suddenly, "You saved my life, Herr Doktor." He looked up at Hannibal. "How...how can I..."

"There is no thanks necessary.  I could not let my assistant in composition be harmed." Hannibal seemed to consider Will. "Is there something else?  Your thoughts feel very loud in this moment, Master Graham."

"This...this helped me, somewhat..." Will began.

Hannibal said nothing, but Will knew he had an inkling of what he would say next "This.  I understand your Elf King...or perhaps...I understand the hunt."

"What about the hunt do you understand?"  Another block passed by before Will had the courage to continue. "There are other places you could get saffron, are there not?" he said.

"There are."

"Yet you come here, where there is a possibility of danger."

Hannibal brushed a bit of dust from his sleeve. "I did not say the only spice I sought was saffron.  Our lives do not always provide what we need to make beauty out of the human experience.  What, as my title would suggest, do I really know of danger?  What do I know of a real hunt?"

"So you come to experience danger, here?" 

"I come to have an experience here."

"At risk of great bodily harm, Herr Doktor." Will interjected "Is it worth it?  Is this possibility of danger? This risk to your life, worth it?"

"You are playing music brought to us by this risk.  To have that music at your fingertips, would you also risk your very life?"  

Will thought to the piece they had been practicing, he thought of the moments of understanding, of running through the forest, of the breathless, beautiful chase.  "To have that music at my fingertips...I may risk my very soul."

"I knew we understood each other, Master Graham."  They were now back at the door.  "I will change out of these clothes, take a moment to rest.  Come find me when you are ready."

Will nodded, and they stepped back into Hannibal's home, the muses looking down on them as they crossed the threshold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I know, there's no seedy spice merchant distract of Munich, so I invented a place for Hannibal to go hunting, I mean...shopping.


	9. A Cooking Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingredients procured, Will ponders the events of the day. Hannibal deigns to allow him into his holy sanctuary. The Kitchen.

Will tried to relax. His heart still pounded, frantic in his chest.  "Rest." the doctor had said, "Come find me when you are relaxed."  However could Will be relaxed again?  The events of the afternoon, as well as the dinner with Signore Fell preyed on Will's nerves. Hannibal seemed accustomed to the danger they encountered, in fact, it appeared he sought it out.  But whatever the risk, the composition was...it was worth it.  Will had not succumbed to hyperbole when he said he would consider offering up his very soul to create such music.  When he played The Wild Hunt, why, he felt the very life of the piece.  He felt the doctor's vitality in every chord, in every breath, in every phrase.  He felt his confidence in the moments of stillness.  Seeing Hannibal in an element other than his elegant drawing room, Will felt unsettled and anticipatory.  The next time he played, he would embody that spirit of the hunt.  The beautiful violence of movement.   Slowly, he came back to his senses.  The doctor had said nothing of performing tonight, which was, perhaps, for the best.  A dinner where composers could meet and talk, Will invited as a courtesy, may be just what he needed as he processed all he had seen this day.  He would think on it, then, put it all to good use in their next rehearsal.

Will's heart beat slightly faster at the thought of sharing music together again.  There would be no rest this afternoon, but, after after removing his coat, leaving him only in his waistcoat, shirt, and trousers, he felt composed enough to go in search of Hannibal.  Walking through the building, he wondered where the doctor could be, however; after a short time, he noticed the air growing warmer and smelled the spices they had risked their lives for earlier that day.

Will followed the scent and found the doctor in the kitchen.

"You seem to have found me at work, William." Hannibal was delicately chopping onions and in one smooth gesture, sliding them into a waiting pan, where they quickly sizzled and grew fragrant.

"I have." Will resolved to put the morning behind him, "I could not resist the smell." a slightly upturned lip was the only indication of pleasure at Will's comment. "You are a man of many talents."

"I try to reach an equal level of skill no matter the task. This includes working with the finest chefs to steal their technique. It feels like some part of them is always in my cooking." Hannibal pulled out another cutting board and knife. "Would you care to learn?"

Sensing a test of some kind, Will stepped forward, rolling up his shirt sleeves "I am never afraid of a little hard work, Herr Doktor."

"I have no doubt of that, never forget, you drew blood in our first rehearsal." Will smiled, touching his cheek where he still had a faint line, nearly healed, from his first performance for the doctor. "I'll have you slice the potatoes. It is simple work, but good practice. Gratifying as well." He handed Will the knife "Do take care of your fingers, though. They are not necessary for this recipe." Will accepted the knife, widening his eyes slightly "I shall take care" he said gravely "As I am quite attached to them myself."

They worked silently for a time, the background noise of the kitchen soothing Will's earlier anxiety and lulling him into a peaceful productive, pace.

"Do you think you will still have trouble with our concerto, William? After what you have seen this afternoon?" Hannibal said, as he started to take apart a large trout.

Will slowed his chopping, choosing his words carefully "I think, I understand the violence of the hunt. I think I understand what you may do to feel danger but...I feel it may not be quite...everything...and..."

"And what, William?"

"I...I can feel the hunt, its vitality.  It is much clearer.  I look forward to attempting the piece again, I am curious to see how this experience may have changed me.  I mean, may have..."

Hannibal fixed his gaze on Will, "Changed you?  What has changed?" It was not so much a question as an opportunity.

Will paused his chopping, setting his hands on either side of the cutting board, "I had never thought of myself as someone who..." Will continued staring down at the cutting board.  His admission was something he was not yet altogether comfortable with. "Someone who could find beauty, in what...in what you did today."

"What did you see that was beautiful?" 

Will picked up the knife again, it glinted in the kitchen light and he saw his own reflection staring back at him. "I should not find beauty in a man's death."

"Yet, you did."

"Yet, I did."

Hannibal stepped closer to Will, looking down at his work, his face joining Will's in the reflection, "That man would have killed us both, perhaps.  Over what? The pittance in our pockets? The saffron I had just procured? He would hardly know the disservice he would have done the world, removing you from it.  If I can transform him...and his act of violence, into something beautiful, translate it into music...or a feast, where is the wrong in his passing?  He has contributed to a great art.  A better sacrifice, one could not hope for."

 

"Your philosophy feels like blasphemy, Herr Doktor." Will paused his chopping

"Is it blasphemy when it is the truth?" He replied. Will had no answer. "Perhaps it would be better for you to continue joining me when I must go...hunting for spices."

"I'm not sure if I have a taste for it." Will said.  Hannibal stepped away from him, and back to the fish he had been preparing.  He dressed it with fresh herbs and set the completed fish in the pan.

"You were the one who knocked the knife from his hands, William." He paused, wiping his hands on a nearby rag, "Perhaps you will find you have a taste for it after all." He looked back down at Will's work "Not bad. Somewhat uneven, but an adequate first effort. Add them to the boiling water on the stove and then begin preparing yourself for dinner. Signore Fell will be here soon and we want to make the appropriate impression." Appraising Will's appearance he continued "Wear the green coat. Have my butler assist you with the cravat. He will know which one."

Will wiped his hands on the nearby rag. "Thank you, Herr Doktor.  The lesson was most...educational."

Hannibal poured a small amount of wine into the pan with the fish, the dipped it back into the flame, briefly igniting the pan and casting a dark red light on his face. "This will be a dinner to remembered, Master Graham.  I hope you have brought your appetite." 

Will nodded, unsure of what, exactly, he was hungry for and how that hunger would be fed this evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we enter the home stretch, I felt it important to bring Hannibal into his element, the kitchen. In both the series and this story, Hannibal using inspiration in composition and in his dinners. Our next chapter brings in a dinner guest, who, as Hannibal said, will be an important part of a dinner that won't soon be forgotten. Thank you all for being with me as I continue this story.


	10. Dinner and Entertainment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Signore Fell joins Doctor Lecter and Master Graham for dinner, conversation, and a work in progress.

Signore Fell had not changed since the last time Will had the misfortune of his company.

"Where are your servants, Herr Doktor?" Signore Fell watched as Hannibal brought in the tray with their entree' "Never tell me you can no longer afford them."  He was still unspeakably rude and at all times, quite positive that he was the best part of any party, the wittiest part of any meal, and the most accomplished person in the room. Will watched Hannibal for any indication that he'd been as insulted as Signore Fell intended.

"We are equals, here, Signore. Equal at the feast. It is no humiliation to serve you a meal that gave me great pleasure to create." The doctor selected the carving knife and fork, then began to cut the meat. "As it were, I am privileged to be working on my next composition for King Ludwig." Hannibal set the slice on Fell's plate, next to the artfully displayed potatoes Will had chopped.

"Who is not working on a composition for Ludwig?" Fell cut into his meat, causing the fork to slide painfully across the bottom of the doctor's china. Will winced at the sound. This meal was not going well. Signore Fell had been late, "To be fashionable, you know" he'd said, looking at Will "Ahh, Master Graham, are you to mimic your betters this evening? Which composer shall you emulate? Are you able to  _feel_ everything our friend has thrown together? Still a mimic, not bringing anything of your own to the table, as it were?"

The doctor had chosen that moment to enter the room and direct Signore Fell to the dining room.  Will remembered that as the signore walked forward, Hannibal had spared Will a backward glance. Will had almost looked away, unwilling to see pity in the composer's eyes, but was surprised to see something of satisfaction. Hannibal had been proven right about something. Will only saw that look upon successful completion of a difficult arpeggio or an astute observation.

"Many are composing for the King, Signore Fell, but few are requested to do so." Hannibal set a slice of meat on Will's plate. His mouth was too dry to really enjoy anything, so he reached for the wine instead. Perhaps that would be enough to dull the unpleasantness of the meal. Briefly, he wished that there was something stronger, but then it would be unlikely he would be able to hold his tongue.

"Well, then, you are to be congratulated." Signore Fell dug into the rest of his meal with gusto "Would that your composition were as delicious as your meals."

"Would you care to hear it?" Hannibal asked, mildly. 

Will's gaze snapped back to Hannibal. Play it now? It wasn't finished. It wasn't nearly ready to be heard. All they had was "The Pursuit" as it had been nicknamed, and Will still struggled with the difficult fingerings aside from any additional feeling he needed to put in it.  He had wanted to attempt this alone, after seeing what inspired Hannibal in the dark and close alleyways.  How could he tap into those feelings with an audience?  It would certainly not improve his standing with Signore Fell.  Will felt that his face must have shown the abject terror in his thoughts and made eye contact with Hannibal, who gave a slight nod.

"I've finished eating, Herr Doktor, so you cannot possibly spoil my dinner. I would love to hear it played on your...music box." He sniffed delicately, "Unless, perhaps, there is something for dessert?"

Hannibal rose, indicating the salon "Master William has been an integral part of the composition process, Signore. However, I am sure that having you in audience will provide additional inspiration for those sections that are not yet ready for the public at large.  The sweetness of this performance will be all the dessert you could require."

Will's hands were shaking under the table. He drew a few, steadying breaths and stood, preparing himself. The doctor seemed confident. Perhaps the discoveries he made while under duress before Signore Fell, would prepare him the high stakes that it would be performing in front of the king. Perhaps an audience is exactly what he needed.  It certainly seemed that Hannibal was looking forward to it.  The doctor walked purposefully and was all graciousness as Fell continued to insult the décor in Hannibal's home, little remarks about how "You can imitate the beauty that is Italy, but it will always be a poor facsimile to the real thing." The doctor, for his part, offered polite murmurs and directed Signore Fell to the seat of honor near the fireplace.

Will began to tune his violin, listening closely to the chords, making the fine adjustments to sweeten and darken the sound. Hannibal pour a snifter of brandy for Signore Fell and passed in front of Will.

"Is all in order, Master William?" He sat at the harpsichord, taking in the keyboard, and the music in front of him.

"Yes" Will breathed "As much as it can be for a work in progress."

"Have no fear, William. Perhaps Signore Fell can provide us our inspiration." Hannibal paused. After an uncomfortable period of silence, Will lifted his head to meet his eyes. "And no matter what, play on. Let nothing stop you, Will. We will make wonderful discoveries together."

Will let out a shaky breath.

"Do get on with it, gentleman, the brandy isn't that good."

Will began. They'd reworked the movement to start with solo violin. He played low and quiet, an exploring melody...the stag now transformed into a wayward traveler, lost in the woods. Ominously, Hannibal played quiet chords, becoming ever more insistent...the sound of distant horns and unearthly hooves.

The movement picked up with a staccato notes interspersed with the melody...a quickening heartbeat of concern. Will knew the Wild Hunt and its King stalked these woods, knew what would happen...and then melody took off, transformed into the chase. Will continued to play, but grew concerned, they'd written the section for his part but had not yet found Hannibal's accompaniment. As he began the de facto solo section, Hannibal slowly rose and walked to stand behind Signore Fell. Distantly, Will heard their conversation as he played.

"Well. Nothing like anything I've heard. Terribly sorry its not music." Signore Fell swirled his brandy in its snifter, watching it as the candlelight filtered through the amber liquid.

"Perhaps you have something to add?" Doctor Lecter said.

"You may as well scrap it and start over. Maybe consider getting a real violinist." Will winced, nearly loosing his place, but continued to play, the pace growing frantic and afraid as the traveler dashed from tree to tree, trying to outrun the inevitable.

"Perhaps it was a problem with the strings." Hannibal said quietly, as Will leaned into another passage of discordant notes, echoing the terror of the chase.

"The strings?" Fell turned around in his seat, looking up to Hannibal.

"Yes. There is nothing like authentic, Italian gut." Will watched as Hannibal's hand slowly rose and light glinted off something in his hand. "I look forward to your contribution to our music."

Before Will could comprehend the scene, Hannibal slit Singore's throat. Blood flew forward in graceful arcs, droplets coming to rest on Will's suit and spraying his eyes.

Will's section ended on a strident, dissonant forte, the traveler's scream at seeing the leader of the Wild Hunt. Breathless and wild-eyed, he looked to the doctor, who had transformed, once again, into the predator in the alley. No mercy and no guilt.  Will shook, drawing his breath in shuddering gasps.  He felt blood drip off his cheek and slide down his hand to the floor.  In that moment, all the colors seemed too lurid, too horrible to be real.  Hannibal was more real than anything.  The hunt was not simply something he sought in back alleys and among the rude and uncouth.  The Hunt was here and he was its King, terrible and beautiful in his strength.

The doctor stepped back and walked around to stand before Signore Fell, who was grasping at his weeping throat. The dying man reached for Will and Hannibal nudged him away with his foot.

"Perhaps in this respect, you can finally be the inspiration you consider yourself." Signore Fell stopped gasping and lay still, a ruby puddle surrounding him. "Buona notte, Signore Fell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To borrow from Tobias (who sadly, does not make an appearance in this fic) the gut is really what counts, don't you think?


	11. A Little Dessert

 

Will's hands dropped to his side, only habit kept the violin from slipping out of them and falling to the floor.  Hannibal was staring dispassionately at the cooling corpse. 

"That rug never really complimented this room anyway." 

Will swallowed, muscles tensing, as he tried to come to terms with the violence he'd just seen.  After a moment, he spoke. 

"He...you..." 

Hannibal looked at Will, eyes still dark, still intense. "The hunt is here, in this very room.  Surely, you feel it now."

What else could Will say?  The room still thrummed with dark energy.  Hannibal stalked over to him. "You did not stop playing."

"No.  You had said..." Will drew in a deep breath. "You had said not to stop.  Not for anything." Hannibal was directly in front of him.  Will could feel the warmth of his body as though they touched.  He could feel the thrill of violence echoing from Hannibal, slowly sinking back to dormancy, but ever present, under the surface. 

"So I did.  It appears you were perfectly willing to follow my command."

"It appears so." Will said quietly.  They stood there for another moment.  Hannibal took in Will's appearance, looking him up and down.  "Alas, I had not intended to ruin your new suit.  Pay no mind, we'll have another made." 

Will was barely listening.  He'd returned to staring at the body cooling on the salon floor. How is it that he could feel no sorrow over his loss?  Should he not mourn his death?  Especially a death brought forth in such violence?  Instead, he felt...relieved.  Fell would no longer torment him, remind him of his faults.  He also felt...he felt excited.  He felt privy to something great, something unimaginable before he had met Hannibal.  Were these feelings his own?  Was the composition bleeding into his own emotions?  Or, finally...had he finally found truth? There was beauty in this violence.  It had been planned, it had been executed...perfectly.  On cue.  He looked back up to Hannibal, wondering.

"His loss to the world of music will not be great, or, after a bit of time, remarked upon."  Hannibal reached for Will.  Will took a slight step back, not quite ready to be closer to him, his eyes never leaving Hannibal's face. 

Hannibal made a shushing sound, the sound you make to calm a frightened animal. "Have no fear, my darling boy,"  Gentle hands, their long graceful fingers grasped Will's violin, then reverently placed it in the case. "We still have beautiful music to make together." Another glance back to Fell.  "I will take care of this...unpleasantness.  Remember, we still have to present to the king."  Taking Will by the arm, he started walking him out of the room.  "Please, retire to your room.  I will bring something to calm your nerves shortly." 

Will nodded dumbly, leaving the room as Hannibal walked back toward the scene.  The stairs were ahead, and to Will's left, the front door.  He looked to the ceiling, the Graces stared down at him, as though asking him which urge was greater.  The urge to flee or the urge to finally create something of lasting beauty. As always, there was a choice.  The music had been beautiful tonight.  The best he'd ever played.  And the composition!  Fell was, perhaps right in that there was nothing that sounded like it.  There wasn't.  It was music and it was...more than music.  The piece would stun the music world, not just in Germany, but everywhere.  The success he had longed for was within his grasp.  However, the cost of that inspiration was higher than he had ever anticipated. 

Slowly, as though in a dream, he walked up the stairs.  He could gain the world.  He knew it now as surely as he knew that when he had told Doctor Lecter it would be worth his soul to have it. The cost may be his soul, but...within the music he had never felt so in control.  So alive.  He opened the door to his room and began to remove his overcoat, then his waistcoat til he was in his breeches and shirt. 

Next, he walked to the dresser and poured cool water into the basin, finally glancing into the mirror.  His eyes were wide and wild, the blood drying black on his face making them stand out in otherworldly beauty.  Sweat had brought out the curl in his hair and the weeks of food had brought life back to his skin, though he was very pale. 

"You may be in shock, Master Graham." Hannibal was in the doorway, also in a state of undress.  His coat was gone, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the strength and sinew of his forearms. 

"Perhaps I should not be.  I had seen what you were capable of in the alley."

Hannibal considered him from the doorway. "You could have run." 

Will looked back to the mirror, studying his own face. "I could have." 

"But you didn't." 

Will took a breath. "I did not." 

"Why didn't you? 

Will considered his response. Everything. The music. His art.  His life. All would change now.  He looked back at Hannibal.  "Because the piece is not yet finished.  And I was told we would make beautiful music together." 

Hannibal's lips raised in the ghost of a smile "So you were."  He stepped into the room, setting a wine glass down on the dresser, and reached for a cloth next to the basin. "Let me assist you." And he dipped the cloth into the water and began removing blood from Will's face. 

Warmth began to curl in Will's belly.  The gentleness of his touch was a surprise and he felt heat come to his cheeks. "My beautiful boy."  

Will's eyes met Hannibal's "Is that what I am?" Will was pushing at the idea of something, a connection he had felt in the music. What had Hannibal spoken of in the piece? The hunt...and the hunted...there must be a consummation. He was being lead down a path he was helpless but to follow. The Wild Hunt had summoned him and he was caught in its net.

Hannibal put the cloth down, then cupped Will's face, brushing his cheek with his thumb "Oh William." The taller man  leaned close to Will's ear and whispered "You have no idea." He turned back and reached for the wine glass.  "Here. Drink. Rest. Tomorrow, we will discuss our plans and see what our inspiration has wrought." 

Will shook his head "I'm sorry, I thought..." They had been so close together.  Nearly breathing the same breath. Had he misunderstood? He looked back up to Hannibal, unsure.

Hannibal smiled, "You have excellent instincts Master Graham...but there is a time for everything and it is not quite yet that time. Anything else we may wish to pursue will be all the sweeter for having waited for it."  Before Will could say thing else, Hannibal kissed him on the top of his head, lingering in the dark curls. "Gute Nacht" 

"Good night." Will whispered, as he watched Hannibal leave the room, disappearing into the darkened hallway.  "Good night, indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the tradition of all great trashy romance novels, there is much to wade through until the final consummation. Will still has some thinking to do and Hannibal has to clean up his mess. Thank you, again, to everyone who has been following this story. We're nearing the conclusion and I am so appreciative for your kind words, your occasional editing, and your attention.


	12. Interlude: Dreams and Dinners

Will dreamed. 

Once again, he was running, once again, the hunter chased.   

He darted between trees, he hid in shade and shadow but the dream no longer had the ominous foreboding of being caught. Rather, it had the tightly held string of anticipation. It whet his appetite and changed the tenor of his dream, from a chase of fear and torment, to a game.  There was a pursuer...but now...now the pursued knew...now, he knew what would come.   

As before, he was pulled to a tree and heard a voice offer him a place in the hunt. As before, the silver chain built itself toward his neck, link by shining link. Now, he reached out for it.  Now, he pulled the clasp around his neck, feeling it link into place, a bright collar, joining him with the hunt.  He looked up and the King of the Hunt smiled. 

"The feast is ready."  said the king and he grabbed the middle of the chain, pulling Will toward him, til their faces almost touched. 

"Come join the feast." 

********* 

Will awoke feeling both drained and oddly at peace.  Now, at least, he knew the demons chasing him.  He turned his legs out and sat on the edge of the bed, stretching.  "Apparently," he thought, rubbing the back of his neck, surprised to have it feel so light, as though the chain should have still been there. "I have decided to join them in the hunt." 

He got out of bed, humming the melody of The Wild Hunt they had rehearsed the night before, he mulled his decision over.  Now, he knew, Herr Doktor Lecter was a killer.  But a brilliant composer and visionary.  Signore Fell was a philistine.  No appreciation for the new or different, no love and no passion, only critique of that which he did not understand. And the doctor...well...art was his higher call.  They were to make beautiful music and so they would. Will would not share his knowledge of what had occurred the night before nor his knowledge of the adventures into the darker parts of the city. Briefly, he wondered what Hannibal...the doctor...had done to take care of the night's ugliness, but he shook those thoughts away.  The composition would be completed and Will would perform and... 

And. 

"My beautiful boy." 

Hannibal had called him that. 

The hunger the doctor possessed was not merely artistic in nature.  A bridge Will had not anticipated crossing with him. But last night, well.  They had been breathing each other's air, they had touched and it was nothing but heat and desire.

"Bridges are meant to be crossed, I suppose." He murmured, pulling on his breeches and tucking in his fine lawn shirt.  Leaving the collar unbuttoned, he turned and walked down to the dining hall in search of breakfast. 

As he walked down the stairs, aromas of sage, bacon, and onions greeted him.  He turned to the dining room to see Hannibal setting breakfast on the table. 

"Come, there is a place for you at the feast." 

Will looked sharply at him, recalling the words of the dream. 

Hannibal tilted his head to the side "Let me serve as your footman" and pulled a chair out for him.  

Will stepped forward and sat as Hannibal slid the chair to the table.  Will looked down at his plate.  Hot sausages were steaming, fragrant with herbs, cheese, and some bread. 

"It smells heavenly." Will began to cut the meat "Pork?" 

Hannibal paused, considering. 

Will chewed politely, waiting for Hannibal's answer.   

Hannibal sat up straighter, then spoke "Many cultures speak of the idea that consuming our enemies gives us strength." 

Will swallowed "Well.  Yes,  I suppose that is something that comes up now and again." 

Hannibal stared at Will. "Do you feel stronger?" 

Will began to cut into the sausage again "Stronger?  Well, I hardly think this pig was my enemy." 

Hannibal began to delicately cut the sausage in front of him "Wasn't he?" 

Will's knife stopped. "He." He looked up at Hannibal.  Then back to his plate.  "What happened to Signore Fell?" 

Hannibal smiled "In some way, I feel he will always be with us." 

Will looked back down at his plate, then back to Hannibal. With a startling clarity, he knew what had become of Fell.  He had served as an inspiration of sorts and, though Will initially struggled with what...who...was on his dinner plate, he had to admit, the breakfast was delicious.  Will and Hannibal stared at each other. As though it was a composition, a melody came to Will's mind. Like the wild hunt...but lighter, prouder...he was hearing the music as Hannibal would later compose it and in that melody, Will could slowly feel Hannibal's pride in him, his triumph in reducing Fell to only his finest parts. In his mind, the music swelled, a rushing wave of glorious sound. Then, as if queued by a conductor, they both turned back to their meal, cutting into their meat as one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short interlude before the final chapter. As in all romance novels...the consummation occurs after our heroes have vanquished their foes and any obstacle that may keep them apart. I thank you for coming along on this adventure and look forward to its conclusion.


	13. Consummation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal complete their composition...and consummation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those who were patiently waiting for the smutty part...here we are! If that's not what you're looking for...well...maybe skip to the very last paragraph...

Weeks went by, they rehearsed what they had performed for Signore Fell and each day Will found something new in the music, an arpeggio that developed differently, a fermata that held more meaning in the silence between its end and the start of the next measure.  The piece was changing, taking form, evolving. Will understood the hunt, he felt the chase.  Time was running short and yet...it still had no finale. 

"What happens in the story?" Will turned to Hannibal, as they were preparing for rehearsal.   

"The Wild Hunt?" Hannibal replied,  "The quarry is caught and joins the hunt." 

Will considered this, preparing his instrument, gently twisting the pegs to make sure it was in tune.

"There is much fear in the piece you have composed."   

Hannibal looked back to him "Yes.  The Wild Hunt leaves a man with much to fear.  To be caught up in it is to be swept away...carried away by desires inhuman and unnatural." 

Will plucked the strings, and made a final adjustment. The chord rang in the air, settling into harmony. "I think you're wrong." 

The room went still. 

Will doubted anyone had ever told Hannibal he was wrong. 

Hannibal looked back at him from the seat of the harpsichord, eyes narrowing, "It is unusual for you to be so blunt, Master Will.  Pray tell, what am I mistaken about?" 

Will swallowed.  Then turned and set his violin down. What had been set into motion was inevitable, and he knew what he had to do.  He walked slowly toward Hannibal, his steps mimicking the stalking motion the doctor himself had taken when approaching Signore Fell.   

"Perhaps, Herr Doctor, the prey is tired of the fear.  Tired of the chase.  Perhaps,  for once in his life, the prey would like to know what it feels like to take control."  He leaned down and without hesitation, before a second thought, he lightly kissed Hannibal's lips, "Perhaps he has decided there is a benefit to joining the hunt."  

Hannibal glanced down, his hands balling into a fist then slowly releasing. "Is this what the duet is missing, Master Graham?" 

Their faces remained close. 

Will leaned in, whispering into his ear. "The piece misses its consummation.  The joining of the hunted and the hunter.  In the end, they must always be joined, must they not?" 

There is a pregnant pause.  This was what the piece was always building to.  This moment.   

"Indeed, William." Hannibal stood, abruptly pushing the bench away from the harpsichord. "In fact, it was the only way this would end, was it not?" 

Briefly, Will lost his nerve.  He took a slight step back, rocking on the balls of his feet as Hannibal surged forward, his arms around his waist and shoulders, pulling him into an embrace.  Will savored the moment of contact, then Hannibal pulled him back by his hair, pain, fear, and arousal mingling as one in a symphony of sensation.

"Then consummation we shall have." Their faces met in a hot, painful kiss, more teeth than lips, more pain than pleasure. "This is always what it was going to be." 

Will ached, his lips burned and his cock, nestled between his thighs, twitched and began to thicken. 

"Yes," he said, teeth scratching along the hard line of Hannibal's jaw "Yes, this is where the wild hunt ends."   

Will was pulling at Hannibal's waistcoat and Hannibal was ripping Will's fine shirt apart at the buttons, then they were against the wall, the hard length of Will rubbing against Hannibal in exquisite pain. 

Hannibal's hands were on Will's chest, then he leaned down and began biting his way slowly up Will's torso to his neck, leaving marks in purple and red.  Will made low, keening noises, the pleasure beginning to cloud his thoughts. 

"God, Hannibal....I..." And Hannibal captured Will's mouth in a violent kiss.  Will's hands were running up Hannibal's back, digging into his strong shoulders, then moving back down to his firm hips and ass.  Hannibal's head went back and he let out a guttural moan. 

"Hannibal...I..."  Hannibal looked down at Will, eyes glittering. 

Will swallowed hard.  Then smiled a wicked smile that in all his years had never graced his angelic face. 

"Oh Hannibal.  How wonderful you must taste." And as the implication of Will's words crossed Hannibal's mind, Will slid to the floor.  On his knees, he reached up and pull Hannibal's long, hard length from his breeches. 

"You are built for the hunt, Herr Doktor.  Sleek and strong." 

Hannibal grabbed Will's head "And I will ride you hard.  Now..." Hannibal did not need to finish his  thought as Will's mouth engulfed the tip of Hannibal's cock.  His tongue swirling around the large head as Will worked him with his hands.   

Hannibal's fingers ran back and forth through Will's curls as Will bobbed back and forth, wringing pleasure. 

"Oh my darling, darling, boy how you will be rewarded" Hannibal trailed off on a moan as with a powerful thrust, he came, long and hard, in Will's mouth.  The salty fluid filled Will's mouth and he swallowed it down. 

Looking back up at Hannibal, he smiled and said "I would say I'm full of inspiration now, wouldn't you think?"  

Hannibal chuckled "And my inspired young man, you shall take your reward in bed." And he held out a hand to Will, pulling him to his feet.  They kissed again,  Hannibal tasted himself on Will's lips as he slid a hand down and felt Will's hot, hard, cock.  "You are certainly filled with inspiration yourself.  Perhaps we can collaborate." 

Hannibal gestured toward the stairs.  "Shall we?" 

Will smiled.  A lightness in his step he had not felt in years filled him as he climbed the stairs to Hannibal's chamber.  He led the way, Hannibal trailing behind him, removing his shirt.  Will's pulse quickened as he moved faster up the stairs.  Hannibal overtook him, passing him and gesturing toward the large chamber at the end of the hall. 

"We will make beautiful music together, Will Graham.  Beautiful music." 

Will stepped into the chamber. 

The room was large and dark.  A huge, canopied bed filled the majority of the space. 

Will turned back to Hannibal, suddenly shy and out of his depth.  This was a room built for sin. "Do you entertain often?" Hannibal smiled "Almost never."  His smile held a shadow of menace.  "Lay down on the bed."   

Will stepped back and began to crawl up on the bed when Hannibal came from behind him and flipped him onto his back. 

"These clothes are lovely, are they not?"  He said, towering over Will, fingering the remains of Will's shirt.   

Will swallowed "Yes, they are." 

In one swift motion, Hannibal ripped the shirt from Will's body "It is fortunate, then, that you have more.  And can have more."  He moved further down, unbuttoning the falls of Will's pants "But for now, I want you covered in nothing but me and desire."  Will shivered "Does that frighten you, Master Graham?" 

"No!" Will almost yelled "No." He continued "It doesn't..." Hannibal finished removing Will's pants, leaving him naked. 

Hannibal stood back "You're like a Da Vinci.  Soulful eyes and angelic curls."  Hannibal straddled his legs, then wrapped a hand around Will's erect cock "And now you're my fallen angel." 

"God." Will muttered, the sensation robbing him of thought.  Hannibal moved his hand up and down the length of Will. 

"God has no place in this room, William.  The only one in this room is the Master of the Hunt." He began to speed up his ministrations "And his quarry."   

Will was breathed hard, all thought robbed by the feeling of Hannibal's long, graceful fingers wrapped around the length of him.   

Abruptly, Hannibal stopped, then leaned up to whisper in Will's ear "On your stomach."  Will had a sharp intake of breath "If you please." 

Will paused, then looked at Hannibal.  Hannibal's eyes held no judgment, only need.  Will slowly turned over. 

"Up.  On your knees and hands." 

Will shivered in anticipation, waiting the next moment of pleasure.  He felt Hannibal move behind him, felt Hannibal's heavy cock up against his ass and inner thighs. 

"Breathe" Hannibal said as he slowly slid a finger into Will's waiting hole.  Will had a sharp intake of breath "This will take as long as it needs to for you to enjoy me."  Hannibal continued the movement "Have you ever enjoyed this kind of pleasure?" 

Will felt heat rush to his cheeks.  This had not been the first time he had known another man intimately, but it was certainly the time that would put every other memory to shame.  "Would you like to feel all of me, Will?  Would you like the dark heat of the hunt inside you?" 

"Yes" Will replied in a rough whisper. 

Hannibal moved faster "What darling boy?" 

"Yes!" Will said louder and more confidently.  He knew this was the moment where dreams and reality collided.  This had always been how the hunt would end.  He would be claimed, he would join it and he would forever be a part of it.  The Hunt.  And Hannibal. 

Hannibal's finger left and he felt something much larger at his tender opening.  Hannibal began to slide in, his own wetness lubricating the way.  Then Will felt Hannibal's hand on his hard cock again. 

"Oh god" Will grunted  "God...Hannibal...its too much" 

"No, dear Will.  It is exactly the amount you need." Hannibal's thrusts were stronger now, he could feel Hannibal slapping against his thighs.  Will no longer had coherent thought, snippets of melody came through to him in startling clarity, every inspiration he had hoped for flowed through his veins. 

His body sang in pleasure and finally, with a determined thrust, he came, spilling all over the sheets.  Moments later,  Hannibal joined him, sticky wetness streaming down Will's thighs. 

Sated, they lay together on the bed, breathing hard, Will in Hannibal's embrace. 

****** 

Months later, their piece debuted for the king.  When Doctor Lecter and Master Graham played, audiences would say they felt transported.  No one spoke of the raw power they would feel, the passion.  It was unseemly.  Copies of the piece were sold and couples were disappointed to find that, when they played it themselves, it never quite regained the passion as when it had been played for them by the composter, Herr Doktor Lecter and his virtuoso inspiration, Master William Graham.  When asked about what it felt like to hear and see the performance lived, the most an audience member could say was "Its beautiful." 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading this through to its conclusion. I so appreciate your kind words and thoughtful critique. I hope to write more in the future and especially in this fandom.


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